


The Five Date Rule

by kjack89



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29223822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: “Who’s the new guy?” Courfeyrac asked, sitting down next to Joly.Bossuet shrugged. “Dunno,” he said unconcernedly. “Grantaire hasn’t deigned to introduce us yet. Probably afraid we’ll scare him away.” He sniffed, clearly insulted. “As if he isn’t capable of that on his own.”“Well, you’re not wrong there,” Courfeyrac said, glancing over at Grantaire and his new beau with a look of mild curiosity. “So how long do you think this one will last?”Joly just snorted, not even bothering to look up from his phone. “Five dates,” he said, a mix of grim and resigned. “It’s always five dates.”
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Floréal/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Grantaire/Other(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 142





	The Five Date Rule

**Author's Note:**

> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

To say that a hush fell over the assembled crowd in the back room of the Musain when Grantaire walked in holding the hand of an unknown guy was probably an exaggeration, but not by much. All eyes were seemingly on both of them as they made their way to a table, and only picked up again when both sat.

Courfeyrac, always one for the latest in gossip, quickly headed over to where Joly and Bossuet were sitting. “Who’s the new guy?” he asked, sitting down next to Joly. 

Bossuet shrugged. “Dunno,” he said unconcernedly. “Grantaire hasn’t deigned to introduce us yet. Probably afraid we’ll scare him away.” He sniffed, clearly insulted. “As if he isn’t capable of that on his own.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there,” Courfeyrac said, glancing over at Grantaire and his new beau with a look of mild curiosity. “So how long do you think this one will last?”

Joly just snorted, not even bothering to look up from his phone. “Five dates,” he said, a mix of grim and resigned. “It’s always five dates.”

“You never know,” Bossuet said bracingly, ever the optimist. “Maybe this one will be different.”

Joly gave him a look. “Five dates,” he repeated flatly.

“What’re we betting on?” Bahorel asked, leaning back in his chair and interjecting himself smoothly into the conversation.

“We’re not betting on anything—“ Joly started, but Bossuet cut him off.

“Over/under on how long Grantaire and his new lover will last,” he said, nodding in Grantaire’s direction. “Line is 5 dates.”

Bahorel gave Grantaire and his new man a quick once over. “I’ll take the under.”

Joly scowled. “We’re not betting.”

“I’ll take those odds,” Feuilly said, not even bothering to pretend he hadn’t been eavesdropping, offering his hand for Bahorel to shake.

“Same,” Bossuet said with a firm nod.

He looked pointedly at Joly, who rolled his eyes. “I’m sticking with five. It’s always five.”

“Fine,” Bossuet said, sticking his tongue out at him. “But when I win, I’m saying ‘I told you so’.”

Joly didn’t look worried. “And when I win,” he said, “I look forward to taking your money.” He took a sip of his beer before adding, “Easiest twenty bucks I ever made.”

* * *

Exactly four Les Amis meetings later, Grantaire turned up dateless. “Don’t tell me you broke up with him,” Bossuet said, a little desperately.

Grantaire shrugged. “It just...didn’t work out.”

Joly met Bossuet’s eyes, something like satisfaction in his expression. “Oh no,” he said. “That’s too bad. We really liked him.”

He didn’t sound remotely convincing, but Grantaire didn’t seem to notice, just shrugging and watching Enjolras stand up at the front of the room. “I’m sure you’ll survive,” he said, a little vaguely.

Bossuet leaned over, surreptitiously sliding a twenty dollar bill to Joly. “I know, I know,” he muttered. “You told me so.”

Joly just shook his head, pocketing the money. “It’s always five dates,” he said with a sigh.

* * *

The five date rule – as Joly called it, though Grantaire stubbornly insisted it was more of a five date guideline than anything – started because of Enjolras.

Grantaire had been casually seeing a perfectly lovely woman who had seemed, at least that far, willing to overlook his many glaring flaws, and brought her to a Les Amis meeting for their third date. And then their fourth. 

And it was on their fifth date that Enjolras, who had never quite grasped the concepts of ‘casual’ or ‘subtle’, had remarked, a little sourly, “I’ll take it she’s going to become a regular attendee, then?”

Needless to say, she never came back after that.

Joly postulated that the cycle went something like this: Grantaire met someone and managed to convince them to agree to a date. On said date, Grantaire was his most charming, and funny, and it was enough to secure a second date, and then a third, which was usually when he brought them to a Les Amis meeting. The third date, of course, by the unwritten rules of the universe, was also the date where sex happens. After having sex, Grantaire panicked because this person wasn’t the person he would actually like to be having sex with, and desperately initiated another date in hopes that he’ll convince himself to have feeling for this person instead, and thus there was a fourth date. The fifth date was one final attempt to convince himself that this could work, and they parted ways after that.

Grantaire, on the other hand, maintained that said cycle took far too much forethought, and he had never once been accused of thinking that far ahead. Instead, he told anyone who asked that he just got bored after five dates, and when he found someone who captured his interest, it would last far longer.

But it was, of all people, Combeferre who nailed it most succinctly.

“It’s because of Enjolras,” Combeferre told Bossuet late one evening when Grantaire and Joly had gone to get refills after discussing Grantaire’s latest disastrous dating attempt. 

“What do you mean?” Bossuet asked, curious, and not just because Combeferre normally considered himself above the whole nonsense of Enjolras, Grantaire, and the never ending dance they both pretended not to notice they were doing.

“It takes five dates for Enjolras to notice that Grantaire’s been dating someone,” Combeferre said simply. “And once Enjolras notices, Grantaire has no need to keep the charade going.”

Bossuet considered it for a moment. “Do you think he knows?”

Combeferre arched an eyebrow. “Enjolras, or Grantaire?” Bossuet shrugged and Combeferre sighed. “Grantaire might, though he would undoubtedly deny it.”

“And Enjolras?” Combeferre gave him a look and Bossuet chuckled lightly. “Fair enough.” He lifted his beer to take a sip before remembering it was empty and setting it back down again. “So who’s going to tell one or both of them?”

“Not it,” Combeferre said instantly, and Bossuet smirked.

“Looks like it’s gonna be Joly’s job.”

Combeferre shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. “But you’re the one who has to tell Joly.”

Bossuet’s smile disappeared. “Goddamnit.”

* * *

But then there was a woman who made it to six dates.

And then seven.

And even Joly had to admit that maybe he was wrong about the five date rule.

Combeferre wasn’t so quick to give up, just watching Grantaire with narrowed eyes as he held this woman’s hand. “What do you think of her?” he asked Enjolras in an undertone.

Enjolras blinked as he looked up from the journal article he had been reading. “Who?” he asked.

“Grantaire’s girlfriend,” Combeferre said, looking pointedly in Grantaire’s direction.

Enjolras’s expression froze. “Oh, uh, Fiona?” he said, a little too vague to be accidental.

“Floréal,” Combeferre corrected. “Though I’m pretty sure that’s a nickname.”

Enjolras wrinkled his nose. “Not a great nickname.”

Combeferre scowled. “And not exactly my point.”

“Then what was your point?” Enjolras asked, matching his tone.

“It’s about the fact that Grantaire seems like he might actually be getting serious about someone.”

“And?”

Combeferre arched an eyebrow. “And I can’t imagine you’re thrilled about that.”

For one long moment, Combeferre was certain that Enjolras was going to deny it, or feign ignorance, or shrug it off in one of a million ways he had in the past. But then he sighed and set his pen down. “He deserves to be happy,” he said quietly.

Combeferre just looked at him evenly. “So do you.”

Enjolras managed a smile and held up the journal article. “I have a protest to plan. You could say that I’ve never been happier.”

“Bullshit.”

“That’s unusually abrupt, especially for you.” Combeferre didn’t so much as twitch and Enjolras sighed. “Fine, but I’m not the one who likes to brag about the size of my vocabulary.” He paused, looking over at Grantaire, his expression darkening slightly. “But I am. Happy, I mean. I love my work, and Grantaire…”

He trailed off and Combeferre shook his head. “If you think Grantaire loves this woman—”

“I don’t,” Enjolras said quickly – a little too quickly, and he looked away, his cheeks tinged slightly pink. “But maybe he should.”

It was Combeferre’s turn to debate between honesty and denial., but in the end, he just shook his head, his expression unreadable. “If that’s really what you think,” he said coolly.

Enjolras shook his head as well and went back to reading through the journal article. Or pretending to, at the very least, though he couldn’t help but look up at Grantaire several times. 

And needless to say, neither he nor Combeferre were particularly surprised when, a half hour later, just when it looked like Grantaire and Floréal were getting ready to leave, Enjolras glanced up at him. “Are you leaving?” he asked.

“That was the plan,” Grantaire said, cocking his head slightly as he looked at Enjolras. “Why, what’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing,” Enjolras said, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. “I was just, um, I was hoping to borrow you. To critique my speech. If– if you don’t have anything better to do.”

“I don’t,” Grantaire said instantly, before realizing what he had said and coloring. “I mean…” 

“Go,” Floréal said with a small smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I think we can handle one night apart.” She kissed him on the cheek before grabbing her coat and heading out. Grantaire watched her leave for only a second before looking back at Enjolras, a small, slightly crooked smile spreading across his face as he did.

“So where do you want me?”

* * *

Floréal looked resigned as she sat down next to Grantaire on the bench he had asked to meet her at in the park the following day. It had been where they first met, and she glanced a little ruefully at it before telling Grantaire, “I suppose it’s poetic, in a way. Ending things here, where they began.”

Grantaire winced. “Is it that obvious?”

“The ‘we should talk’ text did a lot of heavy-lifting for you,” Floréal said with a half-smile. “But I’d be lying if I didn’t see this coming before that.” She hesitated for a moment before asking, “I never stood a chance, did I?”

Grantaire sighed and looked away for a long moment before shaking his head and looking back at her. “If it makes you feel better, you came the closest.”

“But not close enough.”

Floréal didn’t sound upset when she said it, but Grantaire still looked pained. “I’m sorry,” he offered.

She shook her head. “Don’t be,” she said with a little laugh. “I think I knew all along.” She considered it for a moment. “Honestly, I think that was part of the appeal.”

Grantaire frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” She trailed off before shaking her head again. “There was always an end date on this, and that meant I didn’t have to worry about commitment. After all, you always belonged to someone else. I could tell, even if I didn’t want to believe it.”

“I resent the implication that I belong to anyone,” Grantaire said lightly.

But Floréal didn’t rise to the bait. “Fine, maybe not you, but your heart at least belongs to someone else.”

Grantaire’s expression tightened. “Well, there is that.”

Floréal laughed again and patted Grantaire’s knee. This was a lot of fun, Grantaire.” She paused. “Well, maybe not this conversation, but the rest of it.”

“I’m sorry.”

She gave him a look. “You said that already.”

Grantaire didn’t smile. “I wouldn’t choose this, you know,” he said, his voice low. “If I had a choice.”

Floréal shrugged. “You can’t choose who to fall in love with.” She gave him a pointed look. “But you can choose what to do about it.”

“What are you saying?” Grantaire asked.

“I’m saying maybe you should try to focus on the five dates with the person you actually want to be with, the five dates that would actually lead to more.”

Grantaire made a face. “It’s the one date that I’m worried about,” he told her honestly.

“And that is no longer my problem.” She stood, and Grantaire hurried to stand as well. “Best of luck, Grantaire – I mean it. I wish you nothing but the best.”

The smile he gave her was genuine, if a little rueful. “Same to you. I wish whomever you find will give you a lot more than five dates.”

“And I hope whomever I find will love me as much as you love Enjolras.”

Grantaire huffed a laugh and ducked his head. “So do I,” he said quietly. He gave her a little wave before he started in the opposite direction, his feet automatically taking him in the direction of the Musain and the inevitable five dates with the next placeholder until he was finally ready to see if he actually stood a chance of his own.


End file.
